Not A Monster
by cupcakegumdrop3
Summary: ["Late Night Angel" One-Shot Series 3/4, FLASHBACK/PREQUEL, before LNA] A look at the moment Damien tried to do the most selfless thing he could... leave his lover to move on without him.


**Hello! It's me again! I know it would make more sense to continue these as part of a whole series rather than individual stories, and I might someday (I may have been bitten by the author's bug) but for now I think these work better as one shots, part of the same universe where Damien's unnamed "lover" is vague so it could really be anybody in South Park who you want it to be.** ***Whatever ship your little heart desires to sail on!* Chronologically, this would be the second series of events, after "We Survived.", and before "Late Night Angel". This is the explanation of why the words "monster" and "angel" are equally triggering for Damien, in different ways. I promise my version of Damien isn't all problematic, it's just what the tabloids are writing.**

Damien popped into my room tonight, right as I was brushing my teeth to go to bed. I heard my bed creak as I imagined him tossing himself against the soft pillows and warm blankets, exhausted and ready for bed.

Instead, when I turned the corner from my bathroom, I saw he was not snuggled up and waiting to cuddle. He was slumped on the edge of my bed with his elbows resting on his knees, and his palms holding his head up. A different kind of exhausted.

I froze in my tracks, he didn't even look up at me, though he acknowledged I was there with a flick of his gaze in my general direction. I took a step closer to him as he sat up straighter, on edge like he'd be in trouble for slouching. I walked quickly before he could leave, and rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn't move. What's happening?

I rested my other hand in his hair and scratched at his scalp, eliciting a soft groan from his throat. As I traced my fingernails lightly along the base of his neck, and tugged softly on his hair I took note of his unusually stiff muscles. I let my finger of my other hand drag from his shoulder, across his collar bone, up his neck, and rest under his chin where I gently encouraged him to lift his head and look at me. Despite the fact that he heavily leaned into the touches, he refused to look at me. Instead he sighed.

"What's wrong?" I ask in an unsure voice. Not as comforting as I'd hoped, but the best I can do as I'm thoroughly confused right now. Damien closes his eyes and sighs again. Wrapping his arms around my neck. Nobody moves and we stay like that for a good few seconds. I decide to make a move if he wasn't going to, and leaned in slowly. I stared at him carefully the whole time, but he kept his eyes closed and the expression on his face unmoving.

Knowing he sometimes doesn't like to be touched too quickly, I take it slow. I keep scratching little circular patterns in his hair as my other hand melts from his chin to his cheek, where it lays comfortably against his boyish face. I lean in, our breaths mingling for a while before nudging his nose with my own. He does as he's asked and tilts his face up, if not a little lazily. His breath comes out in a short sigh before he stops it again, pain etching itself on his face. Inches away from each other, heads tilted and lips parted, I brush a thumb across his forehead to smooth out the sad expression in his eyebrows. Instead he huffs out a high pitched whimper and dives for my mouth. His hands are hungrily tracing over every inch of my body he can manage, and his tongue and lips meet mine so hard and clumsily that it looses all the grace of our buildup. He's desperately trying to hold me tighter and kiss me harder, but he keeps pulling himself away. He returns with hungry passion reigniting every time I pull him back to me. I finally softly push against his chest and his arms fall dead to his sides. His mouth doesn't stop working though as I plant a few more sweet kisses to his soft lips.

When we finally part he whines with defeat. We stare at each other for a moment as a succession of confusing emotions flash behind his eyes. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but can't. In frustration he flops backwards on the bed. I carefully lay down next to him, knowing that moments like this can leave him feeling much like a caged animal. He glares at me out of the corner of his eye. It shocks me and I'm frozen where I am, sort of hovering over him, sort of laying right next to him. He blinks like he realized he's done something wrong, and lunges forward to envelop me in another kiss. This one is hotter.

I'm relieved because I was worried. As I try to analyze the awkward tension just moments before, my mind is wiped blank as Damien lifts his knee, causing mine to fall between his. He holds me tighter as our legs intertwine and his hands roll all over my body. This feels good. This feels familiar. I knew he wasn't mad at me. These thoughts leave my mind again as his forked tongue trails itself across the roof of my mouth. Is he a mindreader? No, that's not possible. He's just good at sensing when I'm starting to think too much. But now he's doing it. I feel his body tense up underneath me before melting into me again. Good. I was worried. As my hands trail down from his chest downward, his stomach twitches under my touch. I forgot he's ticklish. A ticklish half-demon, imagine that. He grins a little and I feel at ease. Until —

"I'm selfish." He blurts out as he pushes me away gently with one hand, and holding me closer with the other. Uh-oh.

"What do you mean?" I ask, frozen. Halfway between getting off of him and sinking deeper against him. I stay stunned and stiff as he gently holds me and sits us both up. Then removes his hands. And scoots away from me. _Shit._

"You don't deserve… this…" he gestures to himself like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of furniture no one would want. It's broken, and the paint is chipping, and let's leave it out in the cold, the garbage man will pick it up on Thursday. But he's Damien. He's the son of the Prince of Hell for God's sake! He's a sweet, sensitive, half-human boy who feels too much and does more harm to himself than he ever does to others. I brush a tear off his reddened cheeks as if to prove my silent point.

"Of course I do—"

"No you don't!" He roars angrily as he shoots up from his seat at the edge of the bed and starts pacing around my room. Baby…

"Baby…" I try to reason with him, but instead it seems the sentiment has wounded him. He collapses a little and stops pacing to rest his hands on his knees and try not to choke on his shallow breaths. I make a move to stand and he backs away like I can't come any closer. So I sit back down on the bed and he lowers his outstretched arm. He seems like he doesn't know what to do now, and I don't either. He runs his hand through his hair nervously and tugs on the ends a little like I usually do when I play with his hair. He feels so alone right now, I can tell.

"Damien," I try to reason with him but he's not listening.

"You should move on." _No!_ "I'd be selfish if I stayed with you just to make me happy" his voice cracks and he starts to move away from me. _No!_ "You should find someone… who won't cause you worry or pain, and who can truly make you happy."

"You make me happy, Damien!" I scream in desperation.

"Well I'm sorry, but that's not real! There's someone out there who can do more — who can be more! — and who just has normal human problems with normal human urgency and can… call first! Before teleporting in your room like a-a a scared puppy who doesn't understand why bad things are happening to them!" He was pacing again.

And now he's throwing pillows. Even in his rage, he's making sure not to break anything. Trying at least, except my heart is breaking watching him hold something soft and trace it with his fingers lovingly before chucking it across the room. "Well guess what? I know why bad things happen to me and it's because I'm bad! I'm a bad person, and I'm a bad son-of-the-devil! I feel too much, I lash out! And I… I…" Damien cuts himself off by slumping against the wall and sliding down it in a hyperventilating mess. I hadn't moved from the bed before, but I shot over to him right then.

"Stop it Damien… Damien…" in his fit, he won't look at me or listen to me, he just keeps shaking his head and looking around at his feet wildly. I grab him by the shoulders and shake him with all the conviction I can muster "STOP IT!" He looks at me with confusion and desperation, wild eyes still struggling to look in just one place. "Stop it." I mumble more softly as I trace the outer edge of his face and take his hands in mine.

"You're not a bad person Damien—" he tries to tell me in a sobbing voice that he is, as his fervently nodding head sends tears cascading onto our entwined hands. It makes me realize how tightly he's gripping me. I squeeze back and he only seems to hold stronger.

"You're hurt. You're confused. You can't help what you are, but you're learning how to deal with it—" I'm interrupted again by him darkly listing off names of other boys at our school who aren't hurt and confused, though I sort of think at our age it's normal for everyone, and these 'normal' boys' names he's rattling off probably also feel scared and alone at times too.

"You're braver than anyone else I know." He looks up at me like a kicked puppy as I continue. "Yes. Ok, you have problems that no one else our age has to deal with," he laughs darkly, "but you never face them alone when you know you shouldn't. You come to me, and you ask for _help_. Not many other people our age have the balls to admit when they _need help_ , but that's the most noble thing you can do," I try to assure him, "because it means coming out the other side successful, rather than staying stunted in denial." I finish my speech and look at him. His shoulders are still slumped forward in defeat, but his body is still, and he's listening to me.

Realizing I have nothing left to say, I take my chances and lean in towards him. He backs away, not ready to move on yet.

"I'm a monster." He whispers more to himself than to me. My heart breaks. Ignoring his weak whimpers of protest, I wrap my arms around him and hold him against my chest.

"You're not a monster," I say. Hands weakly appear to rest against my sides. "you're not a monster." I repeat. His nails dig in lightly against my shirt. I scoot closer to him and rest a hand against his hair. "You're beaufiful," I whisper, unsure of how he'd take this confession. He turns his face so his forehead is resting against my shoulder. His grip on my shirt tightens and I brush my hand through his hair before settling against it again. "You're strong — stronger than anyone I've ever met" he sniffles against me as I'm sure tears are pooling against my shoulder right about now. It makes me smile, "but you're also not afraid to be vulnerable," I tease him. He lets out a breathless laugh as his arms wrap tightly around my middle. "And you're noble," I continue as I begin to brush his thick hair with my fingers, "and brave, and sweet, and comforting, and yes you come to me when you need me, but when I need you I just call out your name and you're here in an instant, and if you ask me that makes you extremely loyal too." He's calming down, Damien takes a shaky breath against me and sits up to look me in the face. He's beautiful. His large, sharpened eyes are shiny with tears, and his soft cheeks are pink with emotion. His beautiful pointed lips are swollen, probably from biting them and stifling tears that never had a chance anyway. I trace my fingers around each of these beautiful features of his and cup his strong jaw in both my hands. "And if I recall, you saved my life once," reminiscing on the events of a few weeks ago.

"I endangered your life to begin with", he mumbles sadly.

"But then you saved me. You could have walked away but you didn't. You saved my _soul_. You're not a monster. And as I recall you literally used heavenly powers to do so, unless I was too delirious and am mistaken, am I wrong?" I smile at him crookedly, and he looks away to stifle his proud smirk.

"No, that happened." He chuckles lightly.

"Right. Well. That being the case, I'd say you are the farthest thing from a monster you could possibly be. If anything Damien… you're an angel." You'd think I told him everyone he ever loved had just died, with the way he collapsed against me, folding in my lap and heaving with sobs of raw and painful emotion. But he's thanking me. I think he believes me, and knows that I believe it too. He won't lift his head so I trace circles against his back and hum soothingly "my angel", until the pet name stops making him sob even harder. As he starts to regain his composure, he wraps his arms around my waist and laugh against my stomach, making some joke about him being a wimp, to which I assure him he's not.

He finally sits up and wipes the tears from his eyes with a flourish of drama to play it off. So cute.

"You're not a monster," I repeat, and this time he nods and looks down as if he's ashamed he ever suggested it. "You're my beautiful, strong, vulnerable, and brave Guardian Angel" I wrap my arms around his neck "and I won't let you go." I say that last part firmly and he smiles at me sweetly. He brings a hand up to caress the side of my face, and I don't think I've ever felt anyone's fingertips convey this much heat and electricity.

"You're _my_ angel," he murmurs softly. The sentiment, plus the look in his eyes makes me giggle like a little school-girl. He presses a soft kiss to my lips and my head gets dizzy. I kiss him back passionately as not much blood is going to my head at this point. I think that's what makes me say it.

"And seeing as how you're not a monster, I don't think you can rightfully leave me when I—" I shut myself up before I say something embarrassing, or worse, that would scare him away. He blinks at me with a blank face, FULLY aware of what I was just about to say.

"Um…" he stutters, "what? Wha-what did you say?" Instead I don't answer and I feel the color drain my face. That's all the confirmation he needs. His timid expression morphs into a smirk, and he relishes in this opportunity to tease me about what I'd just sort of, not really, done. "What did you say?" He giggles, his voice rising and his smirk widening as he shoves me a little with his leg that's closest to me. As the color rushes back into my face in a heated blush, his eyebrow quirks and his mouth opens wide in a sinful smile.

"Do you—" I cut him off by kissing him again, and he only groans and sinks against my lips for a second before pushing me away and giving me a knowing look. "Do you…l-love m-me?" He says it like he's never heard the phrase before and isn't sure if he got it right. My heart sinks in my chest because, yes I do, but I don't know if he's ready to hear it yet. Just in case, I settle on something in between confirming and denying, and I just shrug my shoulders and look away. He's looking at me seriously now, waiting for a real answer. I look down at the ground and squeak out in as tiny a voice as possible:

"yes, I do." Nobody moves, so I look up at him nervously. He's smiling so brightly, like I've never seen before. He swoops in to kiss me feverishly again, and then places many little affectionate pecks all across my jaw and neck as he assures me of something I thought I'd have to wait years to hear from him.

"Oh" *kiss* "oh my love" *kiss* *kiss* "I" *kiss* "I love" *kiss* "I love you too" *kiss* *kiss* "oh," he breathes out a sigh, panting as he rests his forehead against mine, out of curiosity, I reach up to put my hand to his chest. His heart is beating rapidly, even for someone with only half of a heartbeat. I rest my hands against his neck and rest my lips against his pulse point, feeling every thrum of his heart beat against my lips. When I look at him again, he returns to resting his forehead against mine.

"I do," he smiles sheepishly now, as if his earlier outburst of his declaration of love was out of his control. "Love you, I mean… I've always loved you." He breathes out heavily as my chest constricts at those words. We sink low into a kiss that's slow and deliberate, and pulsing with passion. He pulls back slightly with a wolfish grin and snickers "but you'll always be the one who caved and said it first," he teases me.

God damn it, I love him so much.


End file.
